Too Close for Comfort
by OneWanderingMind
Summary: Respecting boundaries was never Alison's forte. Even death couldn't change that especially when it came to Emily.
1. I Spy With My Little Eye

**This is Part One of a two shot. Rated T for strong language.**

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><p>A girl wearing a simple slate grey v neck and dark denim jeans sat hunched over at a small square table in a nondescript hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. She tucked a wad of her black wavy hair behind an ear before winding her fingers around the handle of an off-white coffee cup. With only a book for company, she neither lifted her head to acknowledge other patrons nor spoke to the waitress who refilled her coffee before she could raise the nearly empty cup to her lips.<p>

Wondering why she even bothered, the brunette waitress muttered, "Rude much" as she strolled away with the glass pot stained by years of coffee remnants never completely washed away.

Not at all concerned with the frustrated woman's decidedly low opinion of her, the girl at the table brushed the tip of her pointer finger against her tongue and turned a page of the book which apparently intrigued her to the point of rudeness. Despite her demeanor and her intense gaze upon the pages, the inked words captivated her as much as the waitress's presence. Before dropping her hand to rest upon the smeared glass table top, she briefly caressed the small dimple in her chin with a knuckle. Instead of entertaining herself with the familiar story of Pip and Estella, she strained to focus on something—something less obvious than her worn copy of _Great Expectations_. A verbal conversation taking place two tables behind her, not an exposition on a page, demanded her complete attention.

Unconsciously, she leaned back in her chair as if being one inch closer might raise the volume of the personal exchange. To her chagrin, the voices had quieted, making it harder for her to eavesdrop. However, her sharp hearing didn't fail her. It rarely did. As she lifted her right leg and slid her right thigh over her left, her left hand gripped the red coat, her own version of an invisibility cloak, that was draped across her lap. Her ability to remain anonymous, while hearing and seeing what she shouldn't, kept her safe while at the same time afforded her the opportunity to protect four people she had abandoned. Actually she was better than invisible; she was dead. She was simultaneously rotting away and living under the noses of those she left behind. She was Alison DiLaurentis, the murdered girl from Rosewood.

As she nervously tugged at a button on her coat, she contorted her features into a look of revulsion. A small, almost inaudible gag echoed in her throat in response to what she heard. Most of the time, she found herself unmoved when secretly gathering information. After all, why would Vivian Darkbloom be interested in random conversations between highschoolers and certain adults?

This situation was different. In this particular instance, she gleaned nothing useful to her or her friends. Her eavesdropping was purely selfish and a blatant invasion of privacy. She had absolutely no right to follow Emily and Paige to this coffee shop. Regardless, she had to know what was going on between them. Her gag signaled her displeasure, while the slight prick at her heartstrings revealed her disappointment.

For a couple of months, she witnessed the two girls interact from afar, but hadn't dared get close enough to hear the truth of their relationship from their own lips. Now she knew. They were serious. Emily's feelings for Alison had dwindled into nothing but a distant memory. In her moments of optimism and fantasy, she imagined Emily forced herself to move on because she couldn't be expected to remain true to feelings for a ghost. Even if that was the case, Alison couldn't help but be disgusted by the fact that Paige, of _all_ people, had slipped her hooks into Emily. _Fucking Pigskin_.

While she occasionally regretted her treatment of some people whom she had bullied, she never felt at all sorry for blackmailing Paige. She wanted that bitch as far away from Emily as possible. That's precisely why she had composed that obscenely graphic note and tricked the smitten Paige into basically handing her the ammunition to keep her away for good.

In the quiet moments when she wasn't twitching out of paranoia, she concocted ways to separate them even now. Before her scheme could take full form, she banished the idea with the thought of Emily brokenhearted and alone. Even Alison wasn't that cruel. So here she was—torturing herself listening to their obnoxiously cute flirtation. Strangers might think the jealous spying to be beneath such a pretty girl, but those who knew her wouldn't be the least bit surprised.

"Stop it," Alison heard Emily playfully chide her girlfriend.

"What?" Paige returned, "You are beautiful. Someone should tell you every day." Again, the disguised blonde suppressed a noise of disgust.

"Someone _does_ tell me every day," the brunette swimmer sweetly replied.

Actually glad she couldn't see the two besotted girls, Alison sighed while quickly turning another page in her book and intentionally flipping past the heartbreaking description of Pip's misplaced and hopeless love for Estella. Why hadn't she reminded Emily how beautiful she was?

Over the last year, her once timid friend had been forced to thicken her skin and transform into a confident woman. Ali loved it. She always cheered inwardly when Emily defended herself and the other girls. A bit annoyed with herself, Alison angrily rapped her fingers on the table top. Why had she stifled that brave inclination? _Oh, that's right_, she remembered, because life had been a chess game and Alison the Almighty had assumed the roles of both players. For sport and partly survival, she shifted people around the board and Emily had been one of those pieces. By the time she realized she returned Emily's feelings, she was in too deep. The game was too delicate and her victory almost assured. She couldn't sacrifice a vital piece to save a pawn. Foolishly and selfishly, she encouraged Emily's affections while feeding her own and keeping the brunette close. She taunted them both with hope for more, but it was always Emily who stumbled away humiliated.

Taking a long sip of the black coffee, Alison nearly choked when she heard Emily speak her name.

"… with Alison—"

"Alison?" Paige interrupted in a voice reeking with displeasure.

After a short pause, Emily continued, "Yes, it was Alison that got us into the wedding reception." The raven haired girl at the other table perked up at Emily's tone. She only sounded like that when she smiled. Picturing her gorgeous face, she listened as the swimmer told the story, "We all happened to be wearing wedding-ish clothes and we slipped into this huge room in an art gallery. We did get stopped by two guys because they didn't recognize us. I think they were groomsmen." Emily snickered, "Alison easily convinced them that we knew the bride… or really she just distracted them by offering to dance with them."

"Of course that's how she'd handle things," Paige mumbled.

"Paige. C'mon," Alison could practically hear Emily rolling her eyes. "You asked if I had ever gotten thrown out of a party. _This_ is the story."

As Emily continued to recount that crazy afternoon, Alison smirked at her enthusiasm and smothered chuckles at her tame version of the wedding crashing incident. The girl's head jerked upward as a memory from that day hijacked her thoughts. Shoving aside the invading memory, she listened to Emily, "So I was drunk at this point. Alison dragged me into a room with some water and tried to sober me up." Alison waited for details of what specifically happened in that room, but to her astonishment Emily said, "Next thing I knew, Hanna and I are were doing the Macarena in the middle of the dance floor. I'm pretty sure Spencer and Aria were trying to calm us down, but those same two guys Ali tricked into letting us stay eventually booted us out."

"Wow," Paige commented, "I can't quite picture that."

"I'm sure that a lot more happened, but I was ridiculously drunk. I can't even remember why Ali wasn't there pulling Hanna and I off the dance floor."

Laughing, Emily's girlfriend conceded, "Well, that beats my story for sure."

While the conversation switched topics, Alison's brain spun as it reluctantly filled in the massive gap in Emily's story. She had no way of knowing if Emily edited it for Paige's sake or if she really didn't remember. After "it" had happened years ago, she thought it might have been hazy in Emily's mind, but she waited for weeks for Emily to confront her. Eventually, she decided that Emily didn't want to discuss it and honestly, she had been relieved. However, Emily's lack of hesitation tonight when glossing over the incident made Ali think that perhaps she really didn't remember. Also, she left out the hilarious, yet embarrassing sexual dance spectacle brought to you by Emily and Hanna. If she had forgotten that, those few minutes in that room may be completely absent from her memory as well.

Regardless of Emily's blissful ignorance, Alison walked around day after day with those few minutes seared into her brain. She couldn't even count the times she tortured herself by reliving it. Unfortunately, one of those times was right now in the middle of this coffee shop with Emily only a few feet away.

"Ali!" Emily whined as the blonde yanked her into a dark room. As the sober girl with two water bottles tucked under one arm flicked on the lights, the brunette said, "I was having fun! I love weddings!"

"You're really drunk, Em," Alison commented as she guided the girl to a nearby armchair. "And you're going to get us thrown out."

"Nuh uh! I was just dancing. Nothing crazy. Nothing bad." Even with short sentences, her speech slurred.

The blonde scoffed as she caught the drunk girl before she could topple onto the floor, "I wouldn't call that dancing, sweetie."

"Why do you call me that?" Emily cocked her head to one side and asked while settling herself into a chair with her friend's assistance.

"Call you what?" Alison replied as she unscrewed one of the tops of the bottles.

Not buying the girl's ignorance, Emily stressed, "_Sweetie._ It's a term of endearment, ya know." The word "endearment" was beyond jumbled.

Unsure of Emily's angle, the blonde wedged the open bottle between her friend's outstretched hands and pointed out, "I call everyone that."

"So you endear—endearment—endearing everyone?"

"It's _just_ a word, Em," Alison crossed her arms. She was a little irritated that Emily might blow their cover. Alison DiLaurentis didn't get thrown out of parties.

"It's _a _word, but not _just_ a word," Emily managed to enunciate to get her point across.

Spurred on my sheer frustration, Alison snapped, "I use the word—whatever it is or isn't. Drink the damn water and chill the fuck out."

"Humph," Emily grunted, "You wouldn't say that if I was your sweetie."

Ali's flaring anger was trampled by Emily's assertion. Ali was about to discover what kind of drunk Emily was. A rock of nervousness formed in her throat. In an attempt to dislodge it, the blonde forced gently, "What are you talking about, Em?"

After gulping down water, the brunette attempted to lock her eyes on her friend's face. She began without hesitation, "Weddings are all happy and about love. Happy love." As she chugged more liquid, Alison started peeling the label off the second bottle sweating in her hands. Completely unaware of the blonde's body language, Emily slovenly continued, "I want to be happy too. I want happy love."

"Em, can I say—"

"No. No. No talking while I'm talking. You're always talking. Now I want the talking. To do it. Do the talking."

If Alison wasn't completely terrified by the direction of this one sided conversation, she would have laughed out loud at Emily's babbling.

"You're really mean," the swimmer stated bluntly. That's not what Alison expected, but she remained silent, literally biting her tongue. "To people. Other people. Not me… well sometimes me, but mostly other people." Emily desperately struggled to clarify. "Ya know?" Obediently keeping quiet, the blonde nodded in acknowledgement. Waving her hand asking for a response, Emily said, "You have to talk. I can't really see. There are sometimes two of you."

"Yes, I know."

"Okay. Good," the brunette crinkled her brow and bobbled her head to gaze at the ceiling. She thought aloud, "What the hell was I gonna say? Oh!" She snapped her fingers with recollection, "You're mean to people, but I don't think you wanna. Or maybe you do wanna. Or maybe you don't know if you wanna so you just do." She threw an open hand against her own cheek and mumbled, "What did I just say?"

"Probably the truth," Alison muttered under her breath.

Suddenly standing two feet from the thoughtful blonde, Emily slapped her hands on Ali's shoulders and said, "I think you should be happy and not mean."

Alison could smell the liquor on the girl's breath. Actually, it seemed to be seeping from her pores. _How did she get so drunk? When did—_

Emily's hands crushing her face and mashing her mouth into smashed fish lips jolted the blonde from her inner dialogue. The swimmer's voice softened, although tainted by the drunken slur. She said, "I think I can make you happy. You make me happy. I can show you how to be nice."

Alison wrapped her fingers around her friend's wrists and gently loosened the hands clamping her face. It was clear now that Emily was one of those astonishingly insightful drunks. Although her heart spouted opposing thoughts and sentiments, she responded as calmly and kindly as possible, "I'm happy with you as a friend—just a friend."

Fortunately, the brunette's intoxication impeded her ability to grasp exactly what Alison was saying. The blonde couldn't bear to once again lie to or turn down the sober version of this beautiful woman. Chipping away at Emily's heart wasn't her favorite pastime, despite mounting evidence to the contrary.

"You're lying," Emily smiled as if replying to her friend's thoughts.

"Em. You need to—"

"Shut up," Emily commanded. She crashed her mouth against Alison's lips. Well, she actually missed most of her mouth and landed between Ali's upper lip and the tip of her nose. Not deterred, the brunette quickly recovered and settled her lips perfectly against the flabbergasted girl's lips.

While Emily sucked and slobbered, Alison's eyes remained open in shock. She couldn't let herself enjoy this, not with Emily so drunk that she completely ignored her rejection. Pulling away, she managed to say between Emily's stubborn kisses, "Em. We can't. Not like this."

"Then when? How? Tell me when… how." the swimmer begged.

Alison hated what she saw. Standing before a girl so debilitated by desperation made her sick. Her heart sank under the weight of her guilt of teasing Emily to this point. No matter how much she wanted Emily, her situation—her game—was too fragile to upset the balance of power. She needed the swimmer exactly where she was, not kissing her and loving her and making her happy. "We can't happen. Ever." Her vocal chords shook on the final word.

"Why?" Emily pouted as she pawed at Alison's dress.

Swatting at her hands, Alison snapped with as much cruelty as she could muster, "Because I don't want you! I'm not like that! How many times am I going to have to tell you?!"

"Fine!" Emily sneered as she pushed past the yelling girl. As she threw open the door, she called out over her shoulder, "Just keep being mean."

"Fuck," Alison's book slipped from her fingers as she buried her face in her shaking hands. Even if Emily's drunkenness had truly hidden the truth of that day from her, the altercation still haunted the blonde. She often wondered if the outcome would have been the same if alcohol had been removed from the situation. Would Emily have given up so easily? Would she have been so honest in the first place? Remembering how alone and vulnerable she felt in that room, Alison breathed, "What is wrong with me?" She chose to think in the present tense because she wasn't convinced that she had changed. Even if she had a chance, she couldn't say with assurance that she wouldn't do the exact same thing again. For good or for ill, she would never have a chance, so she couldn't fuck it up again.

"Hey Em, I'll be right back," Alison heard Paige say as her attention returned to the conversation at hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl walk toward the restroom. Without thinking, the raven haired girl shot up from the chair, book and coat in hand, and scurried to a counter where her waitress stood. Harshly, she demanded, "I need a favor. And a pen."

"And manners," the other girl snarked.

Rolling her eyes, Alison yanked a hundred dollar bill out of her pocket and shoved it into the girl's hand. "That covers the coffee more than twenty times over."

Happily shocked at the sight of the money, the waitress pulled a pen from her apron pocket and replaced it with the crisp bill. Alison snatched a napkin from a silver holder on the counter and hurriedly scribbled two nearly illegible sentences. She folded it twice and handed it to the confused woman. She instructed, "Take this to the brunette over there." She pointed at the back of Emily's head.

"Then what?"

Smashing another hundred dollar bill on top of the napkin, the blonde clarified, "Don't tell her who gave it to you." One last hundred dollar bill piled onto the other followed by a curt, "And then _leave_. Walk straight out." Convinced that three hundred dollars would ensure the girl's obedience, Alison shrugged into her red coat and snapped, "Like right now!"

The woman smirked and then shuffled over to Emily's table while fumbling with the two bills bound for her apron pocket. Alison casually walked out the door clutching her book tightly. After closing the door, she allowed herself to turn around. Somehow, the glass wall separating her from the swimmer gave her a false sense of security. She couldn't leave without at least seeing her face.

As the waitress scuttled away toward the back of the coffee shop after delivering the note, Emily stared down and appeared to unfold the napkin. Almost immediately, her head snapped up and she scanned the room. As Ali pulled the hood over her dark hair, she held her breath. Her heart stopped when Emily spun around and quickly caught sight of her. Well, Emily caught sight of the infamous red coat. Alison hesitated one moment just to study the flustered and scared brunette. It wasn't her favorite look, but it was all she was going to get. When Emily's face transformed from confusion to determination, Ali turned and practically flew to her car. As she flung open the door, she heard Emily scream as she came peeling out of the restaurant, "Stop! Who are you?"

Frantic, Alison slammed and locked the door while simultaneously ramming the key into the ignition. This wasn't the first time she had to make a quick getaway. When the engine roared to life, she glanced in her side view mirror and saw Emily less than ten feet away. Jerking the car into drive, she stomped on the gas pedal and kicked up gravel as she sped away. In her rearview mirror, she could make out Emily staring at the back of the car. Before she turned the corner, Emily whipped out her phone and typed quickly. When the brunette disappeared from view, Alison pulled down the hood of her coat and steadied her breathing as she tried to relax. It felt like a train had torn through her lungs and nicked her heart. The logical, calculating side of her couldn't believe she'd tossed away three hundred dollars to tell Emily one simple thing. _Whatever_. She yanked off the wig and threw it in the passenger seat. _It was done_.

After driving a few miles, she slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder of the two lane road. Even if Emily intended to follow her, she couldn't immediately take off after her. She wouldn't leave Paige stranded. Quickly, she hopped out of the car and stalked to the back of the midnight blue Ford Focus. She knelt down in the dirt and began scratching the license plate. She carefully pealed off a few pieces of white film, which distorted the real numbers and letters on the plate. An "8" had been disguised as a "3", an "E" as an "F" and the remaining five characters as completely different letters and numbers.

Whenever she followed the girls, she always changed the license plate number. Her friends were smart enough to trace it. If that happened, it would lead back to a friend of CeCe's and Alison couldn't let that happen. She protected CeCe as diligently as the four liars. This time, the number she faked would point them to a random college student living in Philadelphia.

Crumbling the strips of sticky film in one hand, she slid back into the leather seat of the car and breathed a sigh of relief. Oddly, she couldn't help but smile. Although Emily may never know the note was from her, she had said it—she had taken the chance. For now, that was enough.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading! Stay tuned for Part Two. Let me know what you think!<strong>


	2. Something That Ends With Fields

**Greetings! This is the 2nd and final part. Unlike the 1st, this is from Emily's POV.**

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><p>As the stranger in red drove away, Emily quickly pecked the license plate number on the dial pad of her phone. While her left hand massaged her chest trying to knead her swelling lungs, she flipped to her recent calls and quickly punched the entry for Hanna. <em>Oh my god. What just happened.<em> Amid her mental chaos, the napkin slipped from her fingers and drifted to the ground. Before it could hit the gravel, her left hand snatched it out of the air as her right hand smashed the phone to her ear.

"Hey Em. What's up?" a chipper voice answered almost immediately. "Aren't you on a date? Is it bad? Do you need a bail out call?"

"Han—"

"Wait. You're actually dating Paige. You don't need a bailout call do you? And why would you call for a bailout call?"

"Hanna!" Emily finally stop the verbal harassment. "This isn't about Paige." Still a bit winded, the swimmer panted. It wasn't because of the sprinting, but rather the person who had escaped yet again. Not only that, the words on the cheap white paper flipped her heart, her lungs, her stomach, every organ with feeling, inside out. Momentarily shaking off her distress, she asked with confusion, "Why would I need a bailout call? I've been dating Paige for a couple of months."

"Umm. Wow. I thought I had short term memory issues," Hanna scoffed. Emily could hear the playful sarcasm Hanna always delivered with a straight face—other than her eyebrows. They always gave her away. "I got you out of something last week. I think the excuse involved your grandma and a dog. It wasn't very clever."

Smirking, Emily clarified, "You saved me and Paige from an accidental dinner with her parents. It wasn't going well."

"And I saved you like Super Woman."

"Or maybe Wonder Woman."

"Well, I don't have an invisible jet," Hanna huffed.

"Uh. What does an invisible jet have to do with—"

"Lucas liked comic books!" the blonde stressed defensively. She continued with faux shame, "I may have glanced through _one_ Wonder Woman comic. Just one!"

"I saw Red Coat," the swimmer blurted no longer able to contain herself.

"What?!" Emily could picture Hanna's eyes widening.

"She… she…" the brunette tried to swallow to clear out the cobweb of nerves somehow glued to the walls of her throat. "She was in the coffee shop with me and Paige." She paused before elaborating further. The details made her uncomfortable. "She was listening to my conversation with Paige."

"Eww! Fucking gross!" the blonde yelped. "She was close enough to you to listen in on your date—a boring, normal ass date?"

"Yeah… Hey! It wasn't boring—"

"Whatever creepy is, this is way past that. Like seriously, I'm freaking out for you."

Pacing back and forth while kicking up lose rocks, Emily said, "I definitely don't need another person freaking out. I—"

"How do you know she was listening? Did you see her sitting next to you?"

"If I had seen her sitting next to me, she wouldn't have been able to outrun me."

"Outrun you? You tried to run the bitch down? Wait," Hanna circled back to her first question, "Go back to how you know she was listening."

"She wrote me a note that—" Emily shuddered. "It only makes sense if she heard something Paige said to me."

"God! Eww!" Hanna groaned as if spiders had just crawled across her lap. "Why the hell would she eavesdrop on a date?"

With a sigh, Emily raked her fingers through her hair and guessed, "To freak me out? I don't know, but—"

"She gave you a note? Who does that except kids passing notes behind their teachers' backs in middle school?"

"Yeah, it's a note and—"

"What does it say? Who gave it to you? Did you ask who—"

"Hanna, chill!" Emily snapped out of exasperation. She couldn't handle Hanna's firing squad of questions while barely holding herself together in the dark parking lot. "Can we please talk about this later? Can you text Aria and Spencer and meet me at my house in an hour?"

Taking mercy on her friend and not sneaking in another question about the note, the blonde replied, "Yeah, sure Em."

"Okay. I'll—"

"What are you going to tell Paige?"

"Shit!" Emily stabbed the toe of her converse into the ground. "I forgot about Paige."

"Tell her you have cramps," Hanna offered.

"Really?" the brunette rolled her eyes with a smile. She appreciated the girl's ability to make her laugh no matter what the circumstances.

"Or diarrea."

"I'm hanging up now," Emily chuckled as she pulled the phone from her ear. After tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans, she inhaled both oxygen and courage as she lifted the napkin into view. Cringing, she crushed the note into her fist. It was just as creepy the second time as it was the first time. For once, she wished the napkin was a threatening A message. This note was personal for seemingly no reason at all.

"Dammit!" she yanked the zipper on leather jacket up and down until she finally set her resolve. Clearly, the note was meant to scare her, to seriously rattle her. That Red Coat bitch was trying to prove how close she could get. _Screw that._ The brunette shook off the fear and steeled her nerves. She has a napkin with Red Coat's handwriting and her license plate number. Thank god for the license plate.

Flattening the crumpled napkin in her palm, Emily ignored the words and focused on the handwriting. Unfortunately, its composer clearly had been in a hurry and intentionally wrote in all capital letters. Some of the words were almost on top of each other. About to resign herself to defeat on the handwriting identification front, she gasped at the familiarity of one of the letters. Although the note was deliberately written in upper case, all of the capital "Y"s were simply amplified versions of a lower case "y". They also had a small curl on the end that she'd only ever seen one place. She knows someone who writes "y"s like that. No, she _knew_ someone who wrote "y"s like that. She remembered seeing them one day at school.

Emily huffed as she spun the dial on her locker. Alison had disappeared after first period and she wasn't returning any of her texts. Her blonde friend had promised to have lunch with her and the other girls, but she never showed. "Ali does what Ali wants," the brunette grumbled as she swung open the metal door. A folded piece of paper fell to the floor and landed on her right foot. Shoving her books under her left arm, Emily crouched down and snatched the note off the floor. Careful not to upset her precarious pile of books and binders crammed painfully under her arm, she unfolded the paper and smiled broadly as she read, "Emily. You should skip last period. Come to the park. You know where. Our spot. - Alison"

The swimmer had to swallow her squeal of joy as she haphazardly stacked her books and binders in her locker. Alison wanted to meet her at their spot! As she slammed her locker and practically skipped down the hall, she remembered the other girls. Alison could have invited them too. Maybe "our spot" was the same place for all of them. Maybe it's a shared spot. Maybe she and Alison didn't have a special place. _Wow_. She halted the freight train of worries and laughed at how terribly petty and insecure she sounded in her head. Seeing Hanna, Aria and Spencer's car still parked in the parking lot fueled her excitement and squashed her doubts altogether.

The brunette happily hummed, not something she normally did, all the way to the park. After hopping out of the car and swinging the door shut, her feet carried her forward at a noticeably fast pace. She was cantering like a horse on the verge of galloping. Conscious of others staring at her curiously, she slowed to a casual stroll and pulled out her phone. Her attention to the electronic block detracted from the novelty of her presence and lessened the interest in her destination. _Jesus. Small town. Nosey people._

When she reached a natural border of the park in the form of a tree line, she ducked under the branches and pawed her way through the overgrowth. She only had to walk fifteen yards before the trees and brush opened up to a small clearing. Eagerly, she stepped into the sunlight filtered by the surrounding tree tops. She barely took three steps before a sharp pressure attacked her sides. Screaming, she jumped at least three feet in the air and propelled herself at least that far forward. When her feet slammed into the ground and her heart exploded against her rib cage, she heard a familiar and welcome chuckle from behind her.

"I don't think I've ever seen you jump that high."

Emily spun around clutching her chest. With a smile and a laugh, she cajoled the girl she'd been dying to see, "Holy shit, Ali! Don't do that!"

Laughing with her friend, Alison replied, "I can't even apologize. It was way too funny."

"Where the hell were you?" Emily sputtered through her ragged breathing.

"Oh. Well," the girl brushed past the other girl dragging her right hand teasing down Emily's arm, "I'm good at hiding." She turned around and shuffled backward with a smirk, "I'm never seen unless I wanna be."

Emily's eyes never left the blonde as she passed by her with a soft touch. Her body turned a full one hundred eighty degrees of its own accord. With her pulse still throbbing in her pressure points, she followed Alison to the center of the small field and collapsed into the soft, beckoning grass. Looking straight up into the cluster of clouds, she flung her arms out to her sides and said, "You seriously scared the fucking shit out of me." She tilted her head back to be greeted by an upside down version of that infamous Alison smirk.

"You sure do have a remarkably dirty mouth when you freak out." The blonde knelt down a few feet from Emily's head and then flipped her body before easing herself onto her back. She settled her head about a foot to Emily's right and commented, "Remind me not to scare you around your parents."

The girls laid parallel to one another with their feet pointed in opposite directions. Emily craned her neck to her right to smile at the blonde looking to her own right flashing the swimmer a mischievous grin. "You're lucky I didn't backhand you. I've busted my dad's lip before. And he just said, 'Boo'," Emily said

"I'll keep that in mind," Alison shifted her gaze upward to enjoy the beautiful blue hue of the sky. She added, "I like my lips the way they are."

"Blood wouldn't suit you," Emily agreed. Thankfully, she managed to dodge her instinctual "So do I" response to her friend's statement. She didn't know where the line was when it came to flirting with the blonde. Alison controlled its position, which seemed to vary from conversation to conversation. Not wanting to frighten away or piss off the other girl, Emily opted to march to Alison's drum. "So where have you been all day?" She asked without looking at the girl.

"I had something to do," Alison replied matter-of-factly.

"During school? You told us this morning that you would meet us for lunch."

"I had something to do, okay?" Alison snapped with frustration as she jerked her head to face the brunette.

"Sorry," Emily said timidly. Her eyes darted upward. She hated when Alison snapped at simple questions. She always seems to be hiding something and those who tread to closely fell victim to her wrath.

"No," Alison caught Emily's cheek in her hand as the brunette looked away. Guiding the swimmer's head gently back to the right, the blonde sighed and apologized sincerely although not without her confident tone, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

Emily felt a twinge of disappointment when Ali retracted her hand and it disappeared from view. "It's fine," she assured her friend.

"Something just came up that I needed to deal with." The blonde shifted onto her right side, bent her elbow under her head and propped her chin in her palm. Gazing down at the brunette, she assured her donning her typical queen bee airs, "Trust me. I'd rather be with you guys."

"That's good to hear," Emily's features brightened as she reveled in Alison's undivided attention. Not many things made her happier than the admiring, yet confusing, gleam in the girl's eyes. From Emily's experience, her friend preferred to communicate her private feelings through body language, looks and physical contact rather than words. At times, her voice never softened, but her penetrating, almost longing, stares transformed her sentences into the sweet melody of a song. Like many songs, a lot was left up to interpretation and Emily had yet to learn the language.

With Alison's gaze still locked onto her face, Emily dared to ask, "You're not going to tell me where you were, are you?"

Slyly, the other girl replied, "Everyone needs their secrets, Em."

"Some more than others," the brunette muttered aloud. She definitely didn't mean to verbalize that sarcastic comment.

"Yeah," the blonde agreed flatly, "Some more than others." Clearing her throat and dismissing the serious direction of the conversation. Ali added, "But mine aren't interesting. They're pretty boring actually."

Rather than pursuing the topic further, Emily offered, "I talked to that new girl, Jenna Marshall, today."

Ali scoffed and rolled her eyes, "You mean that Lady Gaga slut from Noel's party?"

"Alison!"

"What?"

"She's nice. At least, she was nice to me."

"Em," the blonde chuckled in her self-important way. "People can't be mean to you. They might as well kick a puppy." In that moment, Emily failed to recognize the irony in Alison's claim.

A little defensive, Emily crossed her arms and glanced upward, "She seems nice. And how could you know that she's a slut? How you ever talked to her?"

The brunette could feel her friend's eyes transfixed on her face as Alison said, "I talked to her enough. She made it pretty clear that she's not interested in being my friend."

"Oh," Emily paused, unsure as to what she should say next. Jenna had been very friendly and talkative today. She had approached Emily at her locker and they chatted all the way to Emily's classroom. Jenna had even given Emily her number and hinted that she'd really like to hear from her soon. Knowing that Jenna wasn't interested in being a part of Alison's group of friends actually made the prospect of getting to know Jenna even more appealing. She'd love to have a friend outside the close knit group she was a part of. The question was… how would Alison feel about that and should Emily even care?

"Emily?" Alison lightly flicked her friend's nose to get her attention. "Are you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Emily jolted. "Of course."

"I asked if she hit on you."

"What?" the brunette blurted and then gulped. "No. Why would she do that?" She cringed thinking she might have just lied to Alison. Emily wasn't really sure of Jenna's intentions so she didn't have a definite answer. Since the blonde already harbored some resentment toward Jenna, Emily thought it safer to answer in the negative. After convincing herself that she was being honest, she asked, "Do you think she likes girl? Do you think I like—"

"You did come onto me in the locker room and I happen to be a girl."

Blushing profusely, Emily's eyes darted to Alison's as she said, "That was just crossed wires. I'm dating Ben."

"Okay," the blonde accepted Emily's explanation much more quickly than Emily expected. The brunette desperately tried to get a read on Alison, whose eyes still studied the features of her friend. Did she really think Emily kissed her just because she's a girl? "So are you still the sweet virgin Emily?" Alison asked in a coy mocking tone.

"No. Ben and I had sex," Emily exclaimed. Her right hand shot up to her necklace and she fiddled with a charm. She had just flat out lied and she had no idea why.

"Oh," Alison's eyes darted downward and she became particularly enamored with blade of grass. "That's… that's…" she stuttered. Suddenly, her head jerked back up with a face painted with friendly intrigue. "That's great! Or was it?"

"Yeah. It was. Great. So great," Emily managed to answer somewhat happily.

Smiling, Alison lightly brushed her left hand against Emily's as she said, "Remember what I said about the doctor. You can't be too careful."

Snickers from a few yards away interrupted the pair. Both of them shot up into a sitting position and faced a group of three girls standing at the edge of the clearing. Not at all phased, Alison snipped, "I don't remember asking for an audience."

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss this," the tallest brunette replied. Emily recognized her as the rather obnoxious head cheerleader. She and her two friends often threw snarky remarks Alison's way. "I want to personally deliver the scoop on this blossoming love."

Alison helped Emily to her feet and then threw back, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I have eyes."

"Oh, honey," the very irritated blonde crossed her arms and took slow, deliberate steps toward the girls. "You don't want to go spreading rumors—especially about me and my friend."

Standing her ground, the girl threatened, "I think Rosewood High would love to know about the secret affair of the queen bitch and star swimmer."

At this point, Emily really wanted to interrupt with her own angry thoughts, but she knew that Alison preferred to handle these kinds of situations on her own. She could only see her friend's back, but she imagined a rather terrifying sneer creeping across Ali's face as she warned, "Be careful playing with fire. I'll drench you in gasoline."

Not budging but visibly shaken, the cheerleader replied, "Not everyone is afraid of you."

Alison walked up to the girl and whispered a few sentences in her ear. When Alison leaned her head back, the cheerleader spun around and stalked into the trees. Her friends quickly followed after her.

"Wow. She left in a hurry. What did you say to her?" Emily queried.

Strolling back to her friend with a wide grin, Ali replied, "She and her cousin have played Mommy and Daddy. Apparently, she doesn't want anyone to know." When she reached Emily, the blonde threaded her arm around the other girl's and she pointed them to the edge of the clearing away from the park.

"How could you know that?" Emily asked in surprise.

Still smiling, Ali replied, "I just do. I can keep my secrets safe by knowing other people's."

As they maneuvered through the woods, still arm in arm, Emily asked, "Is this a secret?"

"That's not what I meant," Alison answered dismissively. She didn't pull away, but Emily felt the muscles in her arm twinge.

"Ali, why can't people know about this?"

"She was going to twist it," the blonde insisted innocently. She squeezed Emily's arm tighter. "I didn't want Ben to hear whatever bullshit she was planning on spreading. I did it for you."

"Oh, right."

Sliding their arms apart and grabbing Emily's right hand, Alison slowly backed into the thick trunk of a tree. She released the brunette's hand and said, "You don't want Ben, or other people, to think that we—"

"No, no." Her close proximity to Alison started her. "No, of course not."

Alison tugged at the bottom of Emily's shirt and nodded in agreement, "Good. Because it's so not true."

Verbally hampered by the distracting feeling of Alison's fingers pulling at her shirt, Emily could only parrot, "Yeah. So not true."

A small brown leaf glided down and landed in Emily's hair. With a smirk, the blonde snatched the dead leaf and tossed it to the ground. As she raised her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind Emily's ear, she said, "That one time didn't mean anything."

"I know," Emily simply agreed completely overwhelmed by Ali's lowered voice and busy fingers.

"Do you?" the blonde asked softly. She tipped Emily's head upward with a finger. Once again, Emily stared into eyes shouting conflicting messages. "Come here" and "Don't you dare" swam in the blue irises.

"Yeah. I know."

"Good," Alison whispered snagging Emily by a belt loop.

The brunette could feel Ali's word against her lips. She breathed, "Ali?"

"Emily?" Alison spoke her name with an alarming amount of lust.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" the blonde stared at Emily's lips with a smirk.

"I'm really confused."

"Don't be," Alison took Emily's hands and settled them on her hips. "Do what you want."

"What?" the swimmer nearly choked on the word.

"You heard me, Em."

Emily was scared out of her mind. Alison's mouth was only an inch from hers and the blonde was basically offering herself up to Emily's desires. Summoning some bravery, Emily slowly leaned forward and pressed her lips to Alison's. When her friend didn't protest, she replied, "I want—"

"Me too" Alison interrupted with two barely audible words.

"What? Did you say something?"

"No. I didn't say anything." were the last words Alison spoke before tipping forward to catch the brunette's lips between her own.

Emily watched Alison's eyes flutter shut before she closed her own. For a few seconds, her body shifted into autopilot as questions and feelings bombarded her consciousness. Alison was kissing her. She was kissing Alison. Alison wasn't pushing her away. What was happening?

As Alison tilted her head into a different position, her nose brushed Emily's. The featherlike feeling yanked Emily out of the bog of confusing thoughts and welcomed her to blissful reality. Emily's senses sprung to life as she dragged her lips across Alison's. The kiss was slow like a boat drifting down a river carried by a light, almost unnoticeable current. Every movement of their mouths was deliberate. Their lips only shifted to chase down a new feeling of pleasure. Neither of them seemed bothered by the sound of air rushing out of and into their nostrils. Completely wrapped up in the blonde's lips on hers, Emily momentarily forgot that she had hands. Alison, on the other hand, did not.

"Touch me," she whimpered into Emily's mouth.

"Where?" the brunette asked quietly without pulling back. She almost didn't want her friend to answer because for those few seconds, she would lose contact.

"Wherever you want." Alison answered as she trailed her own hands around the top of Emily's waistband before tucking her thumbs under the material of her jeans on her back.

At a complete loss, Emily could only mimic the blonde. After a brief moment of hesitation, she slid her hands under the back of Alison's shirt. She had wanted to touch this girl for so long.

"Well, don't stop kissing me," the blonde joked.

"Oh!" Emily quickly remedied the situation. She hadn't even realized that the feeling of Alison's skin had frozen her mouth. She quickly learned to multitask as she caressed Ali's back and kissed her lips. It felt like a dance, but with no predetermined steps. They completely ignored any missteps and let their growing desire set the rhythm. Out of nowhere, the beautiful sound of a tiny moan bounced off Alison's vocal chords.

Before Emily could react, the blonde pulled back and cleared her throat. When Emily's eyes opened, Alison said blandly, "I knew you wanted something softer. Or maybe you actually were thinking about Ben."

Her head still fuzzy, Emily muttered, "What?"

"But my bet is that you were picturing a red dress, legs that go for miles and a white wig."

Taken aback, the other girl stated with a hint of irritation, "Alison, what are you talking about?"

"Jenna," Ali said flatly as she squeezed herself out from between the flustered brunette and the tree. "You were probably thinking about her. That's totally fine, but if you do go there, make sure her sluttiness doesn't wear off on you." She tossed a piece of Emily's brown hair and concluded with a smile, "I like you just the way you are." She turned on her heel and strutted through the trees.

As Emily followed Alison back toward the park, she asked, "Why would I be thinking about Jenna?" Finally, she had _really_ kissed the girl who held her heart hostage. Now, this same girl painfully cheapened the intimate moment by claiming that Emily's mind was elsewhere. To add insult to injury, Alison actually seemed pleased and entertained by her "discovery" of Emily's real interest. "What does Jenna have to do with us kissing?"

"That kiss, Em," Alison paused and glanced over her shoulder. She bit her lip before saying, "You wanted something and you know it can't come from me." Emily's heart shattered on the tree roots they climbed over as the oblivious, or cruel, girl continued, "I don't have anything for you except tight lips." She pressed a finger against her mouth and assured her heartbroken friend, "Your secret is safe with me." As they stepped out into the large open park, she smiled and motioned Emily forward, "C'mon. Your mom told me yesterday that she would make us brownies."

Alone in the parking lot, Emily traced the letters on the napkin. She hated that this note triggered such a confusing and embarrassing memory, but for every misleading situation, Alison always followed with seemingly sincere affection—friendly affection. That's what Alison claimed anyway, that it was friendly. Thankful that the pain from that day had subsided, Emily read the words again, but this time hoping they were written by a girl she thought was dead. "I should have told you every day. You're beautiful, Emily Fields."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! This could continue in so many ways! <strong>


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